


maybe one of its beams

by looketh_its_brooketh



Category: The Politician (TV 2019)
Genre: Because he deserves better, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, River Barkley Lives, Slow Burn, aspiring lawyer! payton, basically if payton and river had met at the end of their senior year instead of their junior year, because once again he deserves better, bisexual river barkely, my love for assassins poured out into one fic, payton isn't running for president in this because it isn't convenient for me, summer theatre program au, theatre kid! river
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looketh_its_brooketh/pseuds/looketh_its_brooketh
Summary: Payton Hobart needs help, and unfortunately, River Barkley is the only one who can provide it. So, River offers him a deal--if Payton manages to get an A on his Mandarin exam with River's help, he has to audition for a local summer theatre group's production of Assassins.
Relationships: Alice Charles/Payton Hobart, River Barkley/Astrid Sloan, River Barkley/Payton Hobart
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. but deep down, we know that we don't know

Payton needs help. He’s sure that upon further reflection, he would have figured that out eventually, but now it seems to be the only thing people ever say to him—and about him. The thing is, Payton doesn’t like to ask for help, and if he absolutely has to, he has very few people that he trusts enough to go to for help. That’s how he likes it—a select group of trustworthy people, each of them capable of assisting Payton with anything that he can’t handle on his own. A president and his executive departments. The problem is, this is something that neither James, Alice, or even McAfee have been able to help him with—which is why he’s currently staring at the glaring D- on his second semester report card.

“Mr. Hobart, you need help.” As if unsatisfied with the amount of attention Payton is paying to the lone blemish on his grades, Mr. Veeder jabs a finger at the paper. “This is not acceptable work for my class or for St. Sebastian. This is Mandarin II, for Christ’s sake! Not very difficult stuff.”

“I know, sir—"  
“Well, I’m certainly glad _you know_ ,” Mr. Veeder snaps. “But, if you want to graduate and be far away from St. Sebastian in the fall, you’re going to have to start making some changes.” He leans forward, forcing Payton to meet his eyes. “This isn’t some blow off class. If you don’t pass, the rest of your grades don’t matter.”

Payton swallows. “I understand that, Mr. Veeder—”

But, Veeder has already turned his attention to his computer. “I’m going to email your parents, suggest a tutor that would be good for you.”

At Payton’s sudden look of dismay, he momentarily stops typing. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Mr. Hobart. This isn’t something you can fix on your own.”

“Sir!” Payton finds himself standing and immediately feels a little ridiculous. “Is this really necessary? I’ve already been accepted into Harvard, and I have been working as hard as I possibly can for your class. You can ask anyone, my mother, my friends, _anyone_!” He forces himself to take a grounding deep breath his mother would appreciate in the brief pause following his outburst. “Trust me, Mr. Veeder, I know that with a little more time, and yes, maybe a little more hard work and dedication, I can get my grade where it needs to be.”

Mr. Veeder looks up at Payton with steely eyes. “Payton. You’re on thin ice here. Final exams are in two weeks. Harvard isn’t going to wait around while you fail an exam, then fail a class, and then struggle through a summer session of Mandarin, which you’d better hope your “hard work and dedication” can get you through.” He rises from his chair to his full height and pushes Payton’s report card across the desk with a finality that makes Payton’s teeth clench. Mr. Veeder’s voice is firm as he repeats, “You need a tutor. You need _help_.”

\------

“…and then he basically said that if I don’t pass his exam, Harvard’s going to kick me out!” This is the third time Payton has made this speech in the past half hour, and every new remembrance of the unfairness of his situation only fills him with more righteous anger. 

“Mr. Veeder said that? Like, in those exact words?” McAfee’s voice is as earnest as ever over the phone, but Payton can’t help but sense a skepticalness in her tone that he didn’t hear in Alice’s or James’ when he called them about the unfortunate news. 

“Ok, it wasn’t exactly like that, but he pretty much threatened me!” Overcome with the gravity of the situation, Payton stops his pacing across the backyard to collapse down into one of his father’s favorite wicker chairs. “The worst part is, he’s right! What am I going to do? Even if Harvard does decide to keep me in, who’s going to want to hire a lawyer who failed Mandarin II in high school? Nobody, that’s who! I’m finished, McAfee!”

“Payton, listen to me. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I agree with your Mandarin teacher—you can’t just sit back and expect to come back from a D- this late in the game.” As if sensing Payton’s deflating spirit, she sighs, the sound crackling over the phone. “I really wish I could help you. We all do,” she says, her voice softening. Payton knows she’s being sincere—even with Alice as his ex-girlfriend and James as his actual best friend, Payton has always trusted McAfee the most in understanding what’s best for him. For the umpteenth time, he wishes that she, James, and Alice had taken Mandarin instead of Spanish (James and McAfee) and French (Alice). The three of them had gotten their foreign language credits out of the way freshman year, with Alice continuing French throughout high school because she both enjoyed it and was incredibly talented in the class. And it wasn’t only his closest friends that had left him behind—Infinity was taking French this year, too, after developing a sudden interest in travel after moving out of her Nana’s house, and Skye had been taking ASL since freshman year. All of his friends had at least some talent or interest in whatever language class they were taking. None of them were in fear of being unable to graduate.

But, he was. Payton Hobart, aspiring lawyer, debate co-captain, incoming Harvard freshman, was in danger of having all of those titles mean shit—and he couldn’t do a thing about it. 

“I can help you find a tutor, if you want,” McAfee suggests.

Well, there was one thing. One thing that was out of the question.

“No, no. No. I—no,” Payton sputters. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. “I mean—thank you, McAfee, really. But, I can figure this out, I _know_ I can. I just need to clear my head and then…get to work!” He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Payton, I’m serious, I really think you should—”

“Whoops, gotta go! My mom’s calling me, bye…” That isn’t a lie. As Payton hangs up the phone, Georgina Hobart’s voice rings out over the rolling acres of lawn. Payton catches sight of her as she appears from behind the gazebo. Even in his agitated state, her presence is calming, the sun glinting off her long blonde hair and flowing emerald dress. Georgina waves him over, one hand at the level of her eyes to block out the bright afternoon light.

“Walk with me,” Georgina requests when Payton reaches her. He wants to decline, not feeling nearly as at ease as he’d wanted McAfee to believe and definitely not calm enough to take a stroll with his mother, but at his hesitation, she tilts her head and gives him a soft, inviting smile and he can’t help but be won over. 

They walk in silence for a bit, Georgina’s hand resting delicately on Payton’s arm.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” She looks a bit startled, broken out of her reverie.

“You keep looking at me,” he explains.

“I’d like to paint a portrait of you,” Georgina says. “I guess I was painting you in my head.” Suddenly, she stops and places a gentle hand on Payton’s cheek. “I’m not angry with you, honey.”

“That’s good.” He’s not sure what he expected. Not anger—not from her—but there’s something different about her that Payton can’t place.

“I’m serious.” 

“About the portrait or about not being mad at me?”

“Both.” Georgina lightly brushes back Payton’s hair with her fingers. “You know, I really think you’re the most beautiful one of the family. With your doe eyes and your rosy cheeks—”

“I’m sorry I’m failing Mandarin, Mom.” 

“I know you are. I hope Martin and Luther aren’t giving you too hard of a time about it.”

“I’m not telling them.”

“Of course, it’s not like they can talk anyway, with the stunts they pulled in school…” She takes his arm again and they continue walking. “It’s not great, Payton, but I know you’ll be able to fix it.”

“How do you know?”

She smirks at him. “Because you’re my favorite and I don’t choose my favorites lightly.”

Payton rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother trying to hold back a smile. His mother loves to remind him that even though they aren’t related, she’s always felt a stronger connection to him than either of his stepbrothers—or even his stepfather. It’s comforting, to know she’s on his side, but he’s never been able to believe her completely. Bloodlines have so much value placed upon them for a reason.

“And…you’ll have someone to help you.”

There’s that word again—help. Payton’s sick of hearing it.

“Ah, there he is!” At this point, Georgina is nearly dragging Payton towards the gazebo. How they’ve already made a full circle around the lawn is beyond him, but that’s not important. What is important is the boy rising from the wicker chair Payton was sitting in earlier to return Georgina’s wave. 

River Barkley.

“Mom!” Payton plants his feet, trying to bring his relentless mother to a stop. “What is he doing here?” he hisses.

“He’s your new Mandarin tutor!” Georgina replies. She turns and says something in Mandarin to River, and River answers her without missing a beat. They go back and forth, exchanging sentences; Payton only recognizes a few words. 

“May I use your restroom, Mrs. Hobart?” River asks in English.

“Of course. Second floor. There’ll be a…worker.”

River nods his thanks. His eyes meet Payton’s as he begins his walk towards the house. He smiles an easy smile, a sincere one that reaches his gentle blue eyes. And then he’s gone.

“What is he doing here?” Payton repeats. His eyes linger on the spot where River had stood only moments before. 

Georgina frowns. “You’re acting very strangely. He seems like a very nice young man.”

“Mom, that’s River Barkley!” Payton shakes himself out of his daze and marches over to his mother. “We go to school together. He’s incredibly popular.”

“You’re popular.”

“Not like he is,” Payton huffs. “Debate co-captain and theatre star/lacrosse captain/St. Sebastian golden boy are not on the same level. Especially when said theatre star/lacrosse captain/St. Sebastian golden boy is dating the other co-captain of the debate team, who just so happens to be my rival!”

“He’s dating Astrid Sloan?” Her gaze turns sympathetic for some reason. “Oh, I’m sorry honey.”

This quells Payton’s rage for a second. “What?”

“Maybe they’ll break up! I doubt they’re happy together and, hey! This will be a great opportunity for you and River to get to know each other better,” she continues.

“What? Mom, I—” And then he understands. “Mom! No! I’m not even gay—”

“You’re not?”

“—and neither is River,” Payton snaps. “Obviously.”

Georgina quirks an eyebrow.

“He’s not!” Payton splutters. “And even if he was, which he isn’t, and even if I was, which I’m not, that would be…an act of treason! Towards me! I’d be betraying myself.” The thought makes a chill run down his spine. Ugh, the thought of being romantically involved with someone who had made the poor choice to date Astrid Sloan.

“Alright, alright,” his mother relents. “Whatever you say.” Payton knows she’s trying to keep her usually serene expression intact, but a hint of a smirk peeks through. “I noticed that he cuffed his khakis.” At Payton’s open-mouthed silence, she proudly explains, “I just learned what that means.”

Payton rolls his eyes. “I’m leaving.” 

“Have fun! Work hard, but not too hard! Make sure to thank River--” Georgina rambles at his back as Payton trudges up the same path of stone steps River did, shaking his head all the way.

Stupid Mandarin II. Stupid Mr. Veeder. Stupid River and his stupid blue eyes and stupid cuffed pants and stupid, perfect smile. Stupid River and his stupid cinnamon scented cologne that has somehow managed to linger in the air, forcing Payton to continually dread and re-dread the stupidity he will momentarily be subjected to.

God, he wishes he didn’t need help.


	2. have it your way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River and Payton have their first tutoring session together. River can't stop touching things and Payton can't help but feel like his mother has hired him a therapist.

Even with a worker’s guidance, the Hobarts’ house is still incredibly difficult for a newcomer to navigate. The first time Infinity came over to study for a Religious Studies test, her eyes widened in excitement the minute she entered the foyer. She’d said that the house looked like something out of Downton Abbey and then suspiciously asked him if he was secretly a Crawley and had never told her. Payton hadn’t been sure if she was joking or not—he still wasn’t. Infinity then proceeded to get lost three times on the way to the bathroom. Whenever Payton brought it up later as a fun little anecdote, she would always cut him off hurriedly and argue that it was only twice, but Payton knew the truth—you couldn’t wander a house for twenty five minutes and only get lost twice.  
Remembering this manages to cheer Payton up a little. He’s not in a hurry as he climbs the two flights of stairs to his room with more of a spring in his step. Even though he trusts River’s sense of direction more than Infinity’s, it should still take him some time to find his way to the library. Payton figures he has plenty of time to grab his school things and mentally prepare himself for dealing with his new tutor.

Maybe it’s cliché, but Payton has always thought of his room as his sanctuary. It’s neat, but not stiflingly so, with a subtle nautical theme that Georgina picked out even before bringing her son home; Payton has never even considered changing it. His bed is cozy, always precisely made in the morning, and there’s a small sitting area that McAfee, James, and Alice have frequently occupied. There’s a chess set that James has continuously beaten him with, a glass cabinet with shelves lined with an array of trinkets that have interested Payton over the years, and in the far corner of the room, what many would consider the piece de resistance of his bedroom—a baby grand piano, immaculately polished. Payton has taken piano lessons since he was ten, almost entirely with the intent of broadening his skills for his Harvard application. It’s nice and all—Payton enjoys the instrument—but he considers it more of a chore than a hobby. It’s not something that he actively thinks of on a daily basis.

He’s forced to consider it now as he flops on to his bed, sighing as he flings his arm over his eyes, only to sense that he’s not the only one there. Payton immediately sits up and locks eyes with River Barkley. He is sitting at the piano, hands uncomfortably clasped in his lap—Payton is sure that those hands were on the keys only moments ago, yanked away in a hurry when Payton entered the room. 

“What are you doing in here?” Payton demands, clambering to his feet. 

“Oh, uh, I was just waiting for you,” River says. Payton must be glaring fiercely, because River jumps up and sheepishly adds, “I was just messing around. On the piano.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that.”

Payton isn’t sure what makes him angrier—the fact that River entered his room and touched his things _without permission_ or the fact that the boy seems to think that any problem can just be solved by flashing his perfect teeth. 

“The _plan_ was to meet in the library,” he grumbles. 

“That’s not very personal.”

Payton groans. “This isn’t _supposed_ to be personal, River. My mom hired you to be my tutor, not my therapist.”  
“I think you’re wrong. 

“Oh, please.”

“Maybe that attitude’s why you’re struggling.”

“How _dare_ —okay, explain.”

“I’m serious!” River runs a hand through his hair, the soft brown curls looking all the better for his mussing. “I mean, think about it, Payton. I know you’re a great student. You’ve got a great GPA and you’re going to Harvard, right?” Payton nods reluctantly. “But, Mandarin isn’t like math, or science, or like any other subject, really. It’s not all numbers and formulas and data. And you can’t treat it like it is. Studying a foreign language is different.” He grins wryly. “More personal.”

“I don’t _care_ if it’s personal, or different, or whatever. The point is, I’m failing, and you’re being paid to help me. So, let’s just get this over with.” Payton turns to leave, assuming that River will follow in defeat.

“Wait.” River grabs Payton’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. Why can’t this guy just leave him alone? “Can’t we just work in here? I promise, we will be so much more successful.”

It’s the River equivalent of puppy dog eyes that gets him—all earnestness and wide eyes and that smooth, careful voice.

He yanks his arm away. “Fine. If it’ll really help.”

River brightens. “You won’t regret it. 

\---

“This isn’t working!” Payton has taken to pacing agitatedly in front of the fire place, determined to focus as River tests his from where he’s lounged on the arm of a plush burgundy armchair.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” River tells him. “Take a deep breath and really think about what you’re trying to say. Focus on using words you know, that you’re comfortable with. Let’s try it again—"

“Ugh, okay, let me think.” River has been asking Payton how his weekend was in Mandarin for the past half an hour, and Payton has yet to come up with more than two flowing sentences in response. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, but unfortunately, Mr. Veeder had the bright idea to make the final test in his class an oral exam. Payton needs to be able to hold a steady fifteen minute conversation with the man to pass—but, at the rate he’s going right now, he’ll be lucky to reach the 30 second mark. He begins as he did the last few times, saying that his weekend had been a good one and that he’d gone to the mall—not a true story, but an easy one to build off of. A sudden spark of inspiration, and he finds himself telling River about the clothes he apparently purchased at the mall, only slightly stumbling over the Chinese words for shirt and tie. Words start to come more easily—basic words, but when linked together, they form sentences, sentences turning into a real conversation. The sweet rush of victory rises in Payton like a wave as he realizes that this is the longest he’s talked fluently today, a rush that only becomes more intoxicating as he notices a slight smile on River’s face out of the corner of his eye.

For one perfect, though somehow unexplainable second, Payton feels invincible, something even better than the thrill of being accepted to Harvard or being elected debate co-captain (before he realized he would be working alongside Astrid, of course).

Of course, he unfortunate thing about waves is their inevitability—for, as quickly as Payton managed to find himself afloat, a haze of nothingness settles in his mind, the wave crashing over him as he finds himself stranded mid-sentence, stuttering as he struggles to reach for the next word.

Restaurant. The word he needs is restaurant and he can’t fucking remember it and he’s so aware of the seconds passing, seconds between words that only serve to mark him as a failure.

“Shit!” Payton frantically rubs his hands over his eyes, like if he puts enough pressure on his skull, he’ll somehow force the Mandarin into his brain. “This is pointless. I’m not going to pass this exam, and I’m not going to pass Mandarin II, and Mr. Veeder will just laugh and laugh when Harvard admissions sends me a letter saying, ‘We’re deeply sorry, Mr. Hobart, but we’ve decided to decline your acceptance as you somehow managed to fail the most pointless class you’ll ever take’!” 

“Whoa, whoa, hey.” Payton doesn’t even realize there are tears in his eyes until he feels the warmth of River’s hands, gentle on his tense wrists. “Let’s just take a break for a sec. Sit with me.” 

Everything seems to be tumbling out of control as River guides him to the loveseat at the foot of his bed. Payton’s not sure why this had to be his breaking point, why his not remembering the Chinese word for restaurant rattled him to the point where he let his guard down enough to allow River Barkley of all people to rub comforting circles into his back. Payton can’t even remember the last time he cried. 

“I’m f-fine,” he protests, wiping a rough hand over his eyes. “Really, River, there’s no point. I’ll just…figure something out. Just leave and-and you’ll still get paid, and it’ll all be fine. Just go.”

“I’m not giving up that easily,” River says. “Hey. You want to know something kind of funny? Well, actually, it might not be that funny right now, but it will be later.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Just _go_ , River, I’m serious.”

He leans, whispering conspiratorally, “It’s about Veeder. About how he’s not really qualified to teach Mandarin.”

“What?” Payton jolts upright, feeling his cheeks reddening as he extricates himself from River’s arms. “River, I swear, you better tell me what you know right now—"

River puts a finger to his chin and hums in what Payton views as a poor mockery of actually thinking over the idea. “No.” As Payton lets out a groan of frustration, he continues, “ _But_ , if you agree to take a break with me for a few minutes and then finish out the next half hour of our session, I might tell you.”

The idea of going head to head with River in a Mandarin conversation again is not at all appealing after the train wreck that just occurred, but the thought of what River’s idea of “taking a break” might mean makes Payton squirm. The guy’s already acted stranger than he could have predicted, what with his talk of Mandarin being “personal” and his constant wanting to continue with this stupid lesson. Not to mention how quickly he stepped in when Payton started freaking out, or whatever you would call it. 

And how…well he handled the situation? 

Weird. But, damn it, River has some dirt on Greyson Veeder, and Payton will never forgive himself if he doesn’t find out what it is.

“Alright. You win,” he says. “But, just for a few minutes, and then I hope you have some magical way to make me good at Chinese.” If Payton had a nickel for every time River smiled in response to anything, including sarcasm, he wouldn’t need to worry about Harvard—he’d have the means to start up his own college.

“Um. Do you want a drink? Or something?” Payton asks. He’s not sure exactly sure what River’s plan is, but it feels impolite not to ask. Anything to make things as normal and impersonal as possible.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Payton nods. They sit in silence for a moment. River stands and begins to wander around the room, his fingers ghosting over things at random. As he struggles to fight the possessiveness that comes with the other boy touching literally _everything that Payton owns_ , Payton wonders if the moment feels as awkward for River as it does for him. He wonders if River ever feels awkward. He doubts it.

“You play, right?” River says suddenly. “The piano,” he explains, running a soft hand along the shiny black wood, “you know how to play?”

“Um, yes,” Payton says. “I took lessons until I was seventeen.”

“Can you play anything cool?”

“Can I—I don’t know, like what?” 

“ ‘Piano Man’?” River offers.

“Really?” Payton scoffs. “That’s, like, the most cliché song you can ask a piano player to play.”

“So, you can play it?”

“Well, no,” Payton admits, joining River on the piano bench. “But, if you hand me that book I’ll play something way better.”

He does. Payton flips through the pages of _100 of the Most Beautiful Piano Solos Ever_ —not the most subtle of titles. While most of the pieces were far too easy for him at seventeen, they are all objectively gorgeous pieces of music, not to mention the fact that it’s been almost a year since he’s really sat down and played. And if there’s two things he knows will impress someone who’s first song suggestion is Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’, it’s pretty music and music that at least sounds relatively difficult.

Payton takes a breath. And then he plays. It’s easier than he thought it would be, after so long. But, the feelings of his fingers on the keys is natural, the melody comforting in its familiarity. As quickly as it begins, the song is over.

“I’ve heard that before,” River says. “What’s it called?”

Payton frowns and mentally chides himself for it. What was he expecting, applause? A standing ovation? “ 'Clair de Lune'. Claude Debussy.”

“Huh. Maybe it was in a movie or something.” 

Okay, so River definitely hated it. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know why you get so down on yourself about Mandarin, Payton,” River says, running an idle finger over the keys. “You know, you’re talented. Really talented. I mean—that was gorgeous. I’ve always wanted to be able to play like that.” 

Well, it’s not a standing ovation, but it almost makes up for one. His face burning, Payton says, “It’s not a big deal. Mandarin is, though—that’s the problem. Guess I’m talented in all the wrong places.”

“I think it is a big deal.” River’s studying him, Payton can tell—for once, his gaze has become less direct, almost faraway, as if seeing straight into the inner workings of his mind. It’s unnerving. “It’s not important to you?”

“It’s not something to get invested in. Just another thing.”

River shakes his head, but he laughs a little. “ ‘Just another thing’. Wow.”

Payton frowns, exasperated. “What? Why is that funny to you?”

“It’s just—you’re so smart, Payton, I’ve told you that. But…I don’t know, it’s like you don’t recognize these _things_ in yourself. Like, I just watched you play that song, and you were so into it. So focused. And…peaceful. More peaceful than I’ve ever seen you before.” 

“Yeah, remember the whole ‘not being my therapist thing’? Kinda losing that here.”

“Look, I know this isn’t about being friends for you,” River says, serious now. “And believe me, I know what I’m being paid to be. But, I know what I saw, and that was a Payton with a complete lack of stress and worry about being a failure. I think it could be really good for you if you started playing again.” 

Payton doesn’t feel ashamed. He shouldn’t—River’s right, this isn’t about making a new best friend, it’s about protecting his future. That’s it. This is no time for guilt. “Why do you say things like that? I really don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I think I’m a pretty good judge of people, so take that for what’s it worth.” He rests his hand on Payton’s arm. He never noticed how touchy River was—not that he notices things about River. It isn’t as if he likes it, anyway, so it’s barely worth mentioning. “Just think about it, okay? For me.”

Payton wonders if River can feel the tenseness in his arm. “I feel like you’re asking a lot from me that doesn’t have to do with Mandarin.”

“We’re on break,” River reminds him. “The rules don’t apply.”

“If we get back to work right now, I promise to possibly think about practicing piano every once in awhile, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Can you wait…thirty-five more seconds?” River shows Payton his phone screen, on which a timer is counting down the now remaining thirty-four seconds. 

He actually set a timer. Payton doesn’t know if that surprises him or not. He decides that it doesn’t and sighs. “Sure.”

\---

Surprisingly, they do immediately get back to work. River may analyze people and situations like an overly zealous high school English teacher, but he is a man of his word. The rest of their session goes averagely. Payton makes a bit more progress, River praising him all along. Really, he’s just glad that they got past Payton’s random crying fit—it’s the only one River’s ever going to see, he’ll make sure of it.

As River returns his books to his backpack, Payton embraces his silent triumph at the chance to be the observer instead of the one being observed. River’s looks are, in a word, princely. His hair is a soft looking brown, perfectly styled despite how often he rakes his fingers through it when he’s particularly excited about something. He’s wearing a light gray sweater over a white collared shirt—and yes, as Georgina mentioned, his khakis are perfectly cuffed. It’s an odd choice for the summer, but River manages to remove all of the odd nerdiness from the outfit, making it look natural and stylish. Even kneeling down, he’s tall, broad shouldered yet with an almost elegant posture that makes him look constantly at ease. His back is to Payton, but Payton already knows the layout of River’s face—playful blue eyes, rosy lips, and chiseled jawline (because of course). 

“Here.” Payton presses a five dollar bill into River’s hand.

“And the other fifteen?” Thankfully, River looks amused rather than perturbed. 

“You’ll get it,” Payton assures him. “This is just extra. For putting up with me today. Let’s never bring that up again, by the way.” 

River gives him that strange therapist look again but accepts the money. The unspoken moment gone, he perks up and says, “Not half bad today. A few more weeks, and I think we’ll have you well prepared for the exam.”

Payton doesn’t totally believe him, but the thought relieves him a little. “Thank you, for agreeing to do this. Um. I know I might not always show it, but I’m—grateful.” 

River smiles and nods. He turns to leave and then slaps a hand to his forehead. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He looks around suspiciously, as if afraid of someone listening, and then exaggeratedly motions for Payton to come closer. Payton rolls his eyes—people have just been acting so ridiculously today—but complies. 

“So,” River says, “here’s the big secret that St. Sebastian has successfully kept on the downlow for over ten years.” He leans in closer, his breath tickling Payton’s ear. He’s at such a close proximity that Payton can detect hints of vanilla and musk in his cologne. “The only reason that Greyson Veeder teaches Mandarin at this school is because the year after he graduated from college, he spent five months in China on a business trip. And apparently that was enough for St. Sebastian. So, they hired him.” 

Payton’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” River tries to look serious but fails.

“That’s his only qualification? Seriously?”

River nods again and then doubles over, flat out laughing at Payton’s stunned expression and the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Payton expects to be filled with rage. Mr. Veeder, a man that only this afternoon dragged Payton into his office to threaten him with summer school, only has a job at St. Sebastian because he spent less than a year in China on a _business trip_. He should be furious. He should be concocting a scheme to sue the man, or sue the school, or sue all of China for the mess they’ve put him in. But, seeing River with tears in his eyes from how gleeful he is, Payton can’t help it—he starts laughing.

“That’s—I can’t believe it!”

“I know!” River snorts.

“How do you know that, River? How long have you known?”  
“Let me think, about three years now? Oh, and how I know, that might be the best part.” River pauses dramatically, his eyes glinting mischieviously. He has a dimple on the right side of his mouth. Has that always been there? “Back when I had him for Mandarin III my sophomore year, he would just show up drunk sometimes. Like, this was a recurring problem. And one day, he was completely gone—I don’t know how the rest of the teachers didn’t notice—and he just came in and told us he really didn’t feel like teaching that day. So, he just started ranting to us about _everything_ , all of his problems. And yeah, that’s when he told us.”

“…Wow.”

“Worth the wait?” River asks.

“Surprisingly, yes,” Payton tells him, fighting a smile of his own. 

“I’m glad you’re not too angry about it,” River says. “I actually was worried you might be.” He places a hand on Payton’s shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” Payton answers. River gives him a small wave. 

“Don’t forget about our deal!” River calls.

And then he’s gone.

Trying to ignore the lingering warmth from River’s touch, Payton crosses the room to return to his chair. He hesitates. Then, he goes and sits at the piano, picking up _100 of the Most Beautiful Piano Solos Ever_ and paging through it for the second time in a year.

He’s still not sure that River can be trusted. Hell, he’s still not sure that he even _likes_ River, what with all his psychoanalyzing and his inability to have a discussion that doesn’t lead to said psychoanalyzing or unwarranted giving of advice.

Still. Maybe the piano thing’s worth a shot.

Stupid River Barkley.

He takes a breath and begins to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayy part two is finally here! i've now started school so my uploading schedule might be kind of wack but i'm trying to write everyday so that's good. there were parts in this chapter that were more fun to write than others; i can't decide if i like it or not but i like it enough to publish it haha. stay tuned, the assasins/theatre content is coming soon!! and, of course, more river barkley (who i've decided most definitely has the "physical touch" love language. also he likes billy joel--but more on that later).


	3. angry men don't write the rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Payton and River have phone troubles. The remedy can be summarized as the old "song and deal routine".

The weekend passes in off-putting routine: River comes over at three for their session, they study for half an hour, take a break, finish off the remaining half hour, and then River leaves. It’s organized and efficient, just like it should be. Payton should be overjoyed—and he is grateful for at least an attempt at productivity. But, no matter how much he tries to ignore it, he can’t help but recognize that something’s been _off_ about his tutor.

He first started having suspicions on Saturday, the day after their first session. River had casually asked Payton if he would prefer to study in the library that day, an offer that Payton had readily assented to (even though it meant having to pack up the notes that he had spent far too long organizing for the day). Despite the offhandedness of the question and the ease with which River had moved to the new location, he hadn’t seemed the same after asking it. The following sessions were fine—not great, as it was still Mandarin, but fine—yet oddly lacking anything _extra_ from Payton’s tutor. No weird, analytical one-liners or searching gazes—he didn’t even mention the piano. Which is what Payton wants, right? So, even though his gut might tell him otherwise, Payton decides to push those feelings aside and focus on the ever nearing Mandarin exam, which is something that he actually does need to worry about. And that was that.

On Monday, Payton checks his phone during lunch to find a text from River:

[unknown number]: hey Payton, this is River. just wanted to let you know that coach moved lax practice to 4 today so I could study from 5-6 today if that works for you?

“You’re hanging out with River?” Payton flinches at Infinity’s voice. She’s leaning over his shoulder, blatantly ignoring his personal space as she tries to read the text. “Ooh, Payton, you’re so lucky. He’s cute.”

McAfee and James turn away from their own conversation in eerie unison to face Payton. 

“Wait. You’re hanging out with River?” James echoes. “River _Barkley_? As in Astrid’s Sloan’s significant other River Barkley? When did this start?”

“Okay, don’t make this a thing, guys—we’re not _hanging out_ ,” Payton says as he shoos Infinity away. “My mom hired him to be my Mandarin tutor. And frankly, I’m a little offended you would think otherwise.”

James’ eyes widen and he seems like he’s about to tell Payton exactly why he thinks otherwise, but McAfee cuts him off, a tiny smile on her face as she says, “Good for you, Payton. Your mom made a really good choice.”

“You knew about this?” James asks her angrily.

“I didn’t know. But River’s at the top of his class, and that makes him the best possible person to help him with Mandarin.”

“Exactly!” Payton nods at McAfee. “Like I said—not a big deal at all. And, no, Infinity, I’m not lucky, or whatever. River might seem really cool from a distance, but spending hours on end alone with him is…not fun.” He remembers blue eyes and warm hands—how they made the first session not so terrible. River had lit up the room. Where had that gone? “I can’t even stand him half the time, James, honestly.”

His best friend blinks, unimpressed. “If you say so.” James leans in, eyes shifting rapidly back and forth as he whispers, “But what about Alice, Payton?”

Payton finds himself leaning in, too. “What about her?”

“Shh!”

Payton rolls his eyes, leaning in even further at James’ frantic beckoning.

“Don’t you think you’re moving on a little fast?” At no answer from his friend, James continues, “You two only broke up three and a half weeks ago.”

“I’m not gay, James!” Payton must not be keeping as calm and collected of a composure as he feels his is, because more than half of the students in the crowded cafeteria pause briefly mid-action to look over at him. He flushes, catching Alice’s eye. She gives him a confused half smile. He’s glad for it—he and Alice dated for over a year, for fuck’s sake, how could he be gay, Alice understands that—but it doesn’t bring him much comfort. He doesn’t feel anything when he looks at her; her blonde hair softly resting on the shoulders of her pink knit cardigan, her dainty, perfect fingers idly tapping a pen against the page of her planner. Kind, poised, perfect Alice, good at everything except being more than a friend to Payton, and even that wasn’t her fault. He broke up with her, after all.

Maybe he’d never really felt anything.

That doesn’t stop Payton from feeling a twinge of something—jealousy?—when he notices James’ gaze lingering on his ex. Payton plops back down in his chair and James’ eyes snap back to him guiltily. _At least he has the decency to look ashamed._ Although that look is still mixed with James’ previous “If you say so”. The rest of the cafeteria has gone back to their own business—even Infinity, curious as Alice falling down the rabbit hole, has opted to strike up a conversation with Skye. She catches his eye once, tries and fails not to smile, and then hurriedly looks away.

Ugh. Was this how it was going to be for the next few weeks? For the hundredth time, Payton regrets not running away from home the moment he saw River in his backyard, much less let him get so involved in his academic life. And now the guy couldn’t even be bothered to show up to their session on time?

He looks at the text again. God, he wants to send something snarky back. Something to remind River that this isn’t some casual thing—that somehow, River Barkley has inadvertently become the person with the most power over Payton’s future, second only to Payton himself.

He wants to be mean, tell River it’s not okay, that this is actually a big deal. It’s a pretty big fucking deal.

He can’t bring himself to press send.

[Payton Hobart] 5 is fine, don’t worry about it.

\------

It’s 5:00, and River isn’t here.

Payton’s studying materials are spread out over the long mahogany table nearest the library’s fireplace. Apparently, River gets cold easily, even in June (the sweaters and pullovers make more sense now), so they’ve spent most of their time in front of roaring fires. Surprisingly, it’s once of the less weird things about River.

5:01.

He grabs a worksheet River printed out for him on verb conjugation and tries to complete the practice questions. He knows the first one is correct. He’s not sure about the other five. 

5:02. 

Did he really just feel a chill? Damn it, River Barkley. He adds another log to the fire.

5:03. 

It’s not that big of a deal. Did he honestly expect his tutor to be on time? The boy probably made every trip ten minutes longer by stopping to charm mothers or contemplate why the sky was blue.

5:04.

Okay, what the hell. He tries to remember if he’d told a worker that he’d bee studying in the library so that she could pass the message on to River. He clearly remembers the encounter, so that wasn’t the problem. Did River forget what time they were supposed to be meeting? Had he just given up on Payton entirely? Maybe he was with Astrid. Payton mentally shakes himself, fighting the urge to call McAfee, or James, or someone. Because it’s not that big of a deal. It’s _not_.

So, he waits.

At 5:22, Payton hears the frantic pounding of approaching footsteps on marble. Seconds later, River Barkley throws open the door with a resounding bang that he obviously wasn’t expecting, judging by the cringing look on his face. He closes the heavy door gently, and Payton notices that River is trying to slow his heavy breathing as he comes to join Payton by the fire.

“Sorry I’m late, man,” River says apologetically, plopping down in the chair across from Payton.

“Did you…run here?” Payton asks, almost too in shock to be irritated.

“I—yeah.” River sheepishly runs a hand through his already messy hair. “I was taking a phone call and I didn’t realize what time it was and—”

“It’s okay.” And Payton realizes he means it. But River has that faraway look in his eye—only this time, it’s an agitated one. “Must’ve been an important call, huh?”

“Hey, good work on these conjugations,” River says, pulling the finished worksheet towards him. “You used the informal instead of the formal on this last one, but otherwise they’re all right.”

“Wait—really?” 

“Why don’t you,” he shifts through the stack of worksheets, selecting a few, “fill out these for today?”

“…Just those?”

“Yeah.” River keeps glancing at his phone.

Payton finally allows himself to feel irritated. Had River suddenly forgotten that the exam was an oral exam? How the hell was filling out six worksheets going to help him with that? 

“River—”

“Payton. You get an easy day today. Enjoy it!” And just like that, River’s strolling away, typing away on his phone.

Payton is tempted to press the issue further, but he doesn’t. Maybe he does deserve an easier study session. He did correctly answer those practice questions, after all—and there’s something about River’s mood that makes him feel like he shouldn’t make a scene. But, no matter how hard he tries to focus on translating sentences into Mandarin, he can’t tear his eyes away from River, who keeps tapping at his phone like a bird snatching up a worm. He’ll pause in his endless moving, evidently reading a message or something, and shake his head, or breathe in sharply, and then begin to walk again as he writes a reply.

It’s the most upset Payton has ever seen him. And it’s not exactly helping Payton study.

After taking a few seconds to steel himself, he clears his throat and says, “Hey, uh, River? We could, uh, go to my room. If you want.” Anything to make him stop pacing and typing.

At that same moment, River comes to a stand-still, eyes widening as he stares at his phone screen. “Oh, no. Nope. Absolutely not.” He sends one final text and pockets his phone with a dramatic finality that Payton can only assume comes with being a theatre kid. But then, he collapses into the nearest armchair and groans, head in hands.

If it was anyone else, it would have been pathetic.

As if feeling Payton’s eyes on him, River suddenly looks over at Payton and immediately straightens up. “I’m fine,” he assures Payton, but those words don’t sound at all natural and studying be damned, Payton has to do something.

“I think it’s time for a break,” Payton says. 

River laughs a little, his fingers brushing at his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe it is.” 

But River, for once, doesn’t move—and in the awkward pause between them, Payton realizes that he has to take the lead this time. 

“I’ve…been practicing piano a little,” he tells River. That’s a lie—ever since River brought it up, he’s been playing every day. And it is helping, making him feel calmer, giving him something outside of academics to do. He’d never admit that, though. 

River smiles, really smiles, at that, and almost immediately, something feels better inside Payton. Fixed.

“That’s awesome! I’m really glad to hear that.”

“And I, uh, recorded something yesterday.”

“Really? Can I hear?”

“I—yeah. If you want to.” 

“Uh, yeah. Of course I do. After that moon song, I think I might be able to start appreciating some good classical music.”

“Clair de Lune”. He’d remembered. Of course he had. “Actually, I think you might like this a bit more than Debussy.”

River leans forward, a comically shocked expression on his face. “More than Debussy? Well, I gotta hear this, then.”

Payton decides to go to River rather than force River to come to him. He opens the recording app on his phone, presses play, and the song begins.

It only takes that iconic opening trill for River’s head to whip around. His smile is almost impossibly brighter. “You didn’t.”

Maybe that extra log in the fire was too much. “I did.”

River is completely turned around now, oddly crouched in a position that can’t possibly be comfortable. His hands are on Payton’s arms. “Payton, I don’t think you understand. “Vienna” is my favorite song of all time.”

“I—I had no idea. You just brought up Billy Joel at our first session and—”

“Holy shit.” River’s grip tightens on Payton’s arms. “Payton. Your voice.”

Yeah. Payton had recorded the vocals on a whim. Apparently, that was a good move. 

The two of them listen to the rest of the song in silence, River occasionally quietly humming along. His hands are still on Payton’s arms when it ends.

River sighs. “Payton Hobart. That was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Better then Debussy?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well, I don’t—”

“Shh!” River releases Payton’s arms to press a single finger to Payton’s lips in a dramatic gesture to silence him. “Let me just bask in the glory of what I just heard.”

It was nothing—just touchy River making his triumphant return. But that touch must’ve had the power to make Payton’s brain short circuit, because it feels like he would do anything to keep that smile on River’s face. Anything.

River turns back to Payton. “Let’s make a deal.” 

“Okay.”

“If you get an A on your Mandarin exam, you’re auditioning for Assassins over the summer.”

“…What?”

“I do a summer musical with this theatre group every year,” River explains. “This year it’s Assassins. And I want you to audition.”

“I—”

“Your voice is phenomenal, Payton. There’s so much _emotion_ in it, and just—the way you connect to music? I think this would be perfect for you. And you’ve made so much progress with Mandarin—I really think you can pull it off.”

But Payton can’t. He knows he can’t. Even if he wanted to—which he might, he doesn’t know for sure yet, it’s been a weird day—there’s no way in hell he could manage to pull off getting an A on that stupid oral exam. It’s impossible. River Barkley has lost it, once again thinking that he has the ability to make everything so much fucking better with a deal, or a one liner, or a stupid, stupid smile. Payton’s a failure. He can’t. 

But all at once, Payton remembers—the twenty minute phone call, the texts, River with his head in his hands, and how time and time again, he’s just unable to refuse River anything. Maybe it’s fundamental.

So, he agrees.

The oral exam finally arrives, and Payton gets a B-, bringing him up to a passing grade in the class. It was impossible, of course, to get an A—Payton had known that from the start. But, as he later tells River, maybe, for once, he just needed to pass. Mr. Veeder doesn’t deserve his As anyway.

River’s proud of the B- anyway, but he still looks a little disappointed when he says, “Ah, well. A deal is a deal.”

That evening, Payton is unable to get to sleep. and as he stares at darkened canopy above his bed, he realizes that, despite the deal, he still has the power to do that ‘anything’. 

[Payton Hobart] So when are auditions?

[River Barkley] i’ll come over tmrw and tell you all about them :)

Payton wants to ask about the texts, about what could possibly cause a boy like River Barkley to hurt. He doesn't. He falls asleep soon after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back >:) and yes, y'all are getting a full chapter bc i was actually motivated today!! anyway, my school's going online for the rest of the semester, so i should actually have the time to work on this. once again, not sure if i love this chapter or not--is payton getting too nice?? idk--but at least it's here. also sorry about the river angst :( but it's better than him dying so. also yay the theatre content is finally hereeee

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! i'm brooke, and this is my first time officially writing fanfiction so this should be a wild ride. basically i love river barkley and i love assassins and since we never got to see canonic theatre kid river, i'm bringing it to you. note: i haven't watched the second season of the politician yet but i heard that river's sexuality is erased so don't worry--i'm fixing that too lol. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter (originally it was going to be longer but i found a good place to end and really wanted to finally post it so here we are) and let's hope i have the motivation to continue writing this!! feel free to critique, i haven't shown people my writing in a long time


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